


I Gotta Have Faith

by ZydecoVivo



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: F/M, M/M, Religion, Unitarian Universalism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-20
Updated: 2019-07-06
Packaged: 2020-05-15 03:39:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19287361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZydecoVivo/pseuds/ZydecoVivo
Summary: Aziraphale is waiting for a minister. Crowley is a minister who has given up on religion. Will God provide?Based on the story of Thomas Potter and John Murray from Unitarian Universalism.





	1. Before

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first shot at writing fan fiction. I heard this story at church and thought it fit Aziraphale and Crowley pretty well. Of course, this will be much more GAY.

When Aziraphale had been ordered to the new world, he didn’t really know what to expect. He had been hoping for a more established culture, with places of fine dining or at least a local market. But the Pine Barrens in New Jersey had none of that in the mid-1700s. 

Still, the few locals in the area were good, honest people. While not strictly in his job description, he felt that it was important to bring faith to the tiny community that was growing here. A few miracles helped. But it was his own unwavering faith in his own God that inspired the locals. 

He toiled in the fields, just like them, yet his smile and heavenly glow never wavered. He shared his crops with the less fortunate. He entertained the young ones with stories of The Beginning and The Garden. Mr. Fell (as they knew him) was a beacon of light. He spoke often of a benevolent and loving God that wanted all of humanity to work together for a greater good. He talked of how everyone, no matter their standing or religious affiliation, as long as they did their best in life, would be granted eternal salvation. His messages spoke of hope and he was the embodiment of it to the people of Good Luck, NJ. 

While he’d been approached about being a preacher himself, Aziraphale refused. Leading a flock, he felt, was not the job of a Principality, but of a true man of the people. However, the preachers that traveled through the area did not speak of life in the way that he viewed it. Many who came through talked about Hell and the damnation of all men. Or worse, the acceptance of only a select elite. The religions in the area that seemed to be closest to his convictions were the Quakers and Baptists. But the traveling ministers all had something lacking in their convictions. It was a rumor, really, that brought the whisper of another group, Universalism. It would’ve been the perfect solution to truly establish faith in the area. Alas, no Universalist ministers had yet traveled to Good Luck, NJ. So Aziraphale decided to wait for them. 

He built a meetinghouse (with the help of a few of his own angelic miracles). The structure itself was simple. A square building with a pitched roof. Enough pews crowded around a pulpit to hold the small community of 50 people. The only decorations were a single cross on the front above the door and a cross carved into the pulpit. It would be used for the Universalist preacher(s) that would come. It would be a place of hope, happiness, and love. Once or twice a year, everyone would come bearing flowers from their own homes and gardens to bring beauty to the meetinghouse. But there was never a minister there to receive their offerings. While local families came and went, Aziraphale never stopped believing that his minister would come. He knew that his God, his loving, gentle, all-knowing God, would one day provide for him and these hard-working people. And he waited.

 

*10 years later*

 

Anthony Crowley was aboard a ship. For now at least. He was due to reach New York soon. His brother had hoped that the journey would give Anthony the new start he needed. Anthony hoped that he could disappear in the New World, and rejoin his family once again.

He had lost his newborn child just 3 years ago. His wife had been taken a few months later. The ensuing depression caused him to be thrown into a debtor prison. His brother had helped repay his debts, but Anthony could no longer stomach England. 

He knew why his life had spiraled. His dead parents’ voices swam in his head. He had strayed from the Anglicanism of his childhood. First by becoming a Methodist minister, and then embracing the Universalist church in London. He’d been excommunicated after that. But he’d felt so happy there! Universal salvation had sounded right and true. Now, he just hoped to die peacefully. He didn't even care what was waiting for him beyond the veil. 

He’d sworn off of religion before his voyage began. But God was obviously still angry at him. The journey had been rough and he was feeling quite sick. And they’d just received word that there was no more room for ships to dock in New York. Running low on morale and provisions, the vessel set course for Philadelphia. When they landed and all the other passengers departed, Anthony stood on the dock. He had no money for a cab. There was no way he could walk to New York from Philadelphia. He had nowhere to go, no money, no friends, nothing but the small bag of clothes he’d brought with him. 

While continuing to sink into his despair, the captain approached him.

“Sir, we’ve just received word that New York is opening it’s port again. Once we stock up, you are welcome to journey with us.” It was the best news that he had heard in a long time. So he waited for the ship to set sail again.


	2. The Meeting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's short, but I wanted to post it.

The added leg of the journey proved to be the worst. Not quite halfway to New York, the ship was caught in one of the worst storms Anthony had ever seen. He dared not go above deck. He’d seen at least one crew member be thrown overboard by the howling winds. The captain had sent the remaining crew below deck along and was alone in holding the vessel steady. 

Anthony’s seasickness had, of course, returned with a vengeance. He sat with a half-full bucket in his lap. Rain was seeping in through the door. The pounding of it against the deck sounded like a million rifles being shot at them. Anthony had wished for death for years and he now believed he would get what he asked for. He had only hoped that God would have mercy on the innocent people around him. 

It could’ve been minutes. It could’ve been hours. But eventually, he heard the shouting of the captain. No one could tell what he was saying. One of the crew members opened the door as the captain came into view.

“We’re heading for a barrier island! I’ve lost control of the wheel. Get off while you still can.” Everyone lept into action, running for the deck. Anthony had just made it a few steps across the deck when the ship jolted to a halt. He was sent flying into the water. In shock and pain, Anthony only had enough of his wits to get his head above the surface. But the waves and the current were too strong. He was in God’s hands now. 

 

The morning after the first Nor'easter of Spring was pleasant. The local birds were chirping. The ground glittered with water that had not yet evaporated. Aziraphale once again thanked God that he and his house had not sustained any major damage during the storm. He made himself a simple breakfast and decided to take a stroll along the beach. The storm surely washed up some poor sea creatures that could either be saved or used as food. Packing a few snacks and a canteen of water, he set off down the small trail he had worn through the foliage. 

It was a nice meandering 20 minutes before Aziraphale saw the sands of the beach. But the few dead fish and crabs around him no longer interested him. There was a ship stuck on the barrier island across the bay. And bodies on the beach. Aziraphale ran to the closest one, a man dressed in dark clothing with dark hair that shown red in the light. He was unconscious. Aziraphale put his ear to the man’s chest. Still beating. With a quick look around, he made sure no one else was around to see him. He touched the man’s shoulder and concentrated on miracling the water from his lungs. Not a minute later, the man sat up suddenly, almost knocking into Aziraphale, coughing and sputtering. He then turned away from Aziraphale and began retching up water and what was left in his stomach. Aziraphale rubbed his back lightly in support. Once the man was done, he looked at Aziraphale. Aziraphale smiled brightly before greeting him. 

“Greetings dear sir! My name is Aziraphale. It seems that you were in a shipwreck. Just lie here for a few moments while I help out your shipmates. Here is something to nibble on if you feel strong enough. Welcome to Good Luck, New Jersey. ” Aziraphale handed him some roasted nuts and walked towards the next body, though he was careful to conceal his powers in the presence of a conscious human.


	3. Going to Town

Anthony was sure that he’d died. His eyes were blinded by the sunlight filtering around the outline of someone’s head. The only proof that he hadn’t was the pain in his chest. He sat up suddenly and then turned away from the stranger to vomit. As Anthony continued to vomit up the water he’d ingested, he felt the man rubbing soothing circles along his back. How odd for a man to blatantly show such a comfort. Once the vomit subsided, Anthony turned to look back at the strange man. If he hadn’t been struggling to breathe already, he would’ve gasped. The stranger was simply beautiful. His hair was so light and curly that the sunlight glittered around his head, giving him an illusion of a halo. His eyes also sparkled with joy and were dark with specks of blue. If he had not been wearing the slightly stained and worn clothes of a farmer, Anthony would’ve thought that he was an angel. The man smiled softly, just giving a glimpse of white teeth behind pink lips.

“Greetings dear sir! My name is Aziraphale. It seems that you were in a shipwreck. Just lie here for a few moments while I help out your shipmates. Here is something to nibble on if you feel strong enough. Welcome to Good Luck, New Jersey.” The man, Aziraphale, dropped some nuts into Anthony's hands before standing up and walking to the next nearest body of one of Anthony’s shipmates. Anthony’s eyes followed Aziraphale as he made his way across the beach, reviving every man with a strange manner of pressing on their chests multiple times as if to simulate a heartbeat, and then placing his mouth on theirs while blowing his breath into them. 

‘Did he do the same to me?’ thought Anthony. He must’ve. But when Anthony traced his lips with his tongue, he did not find an unfamiliar taste, except the salt from the seawater. The thought that he hadn’t disappointed Anthony a bit. He envied how the other men were blessed with feeling the man’s gentle hands on their faces, hearing his voice, that had a distinct English accent, and seeing his smile so close. 

Anthony was not naive. He had felt this way before. First, with his best friend in Sunday school, who was whipped so harshly after the two boys were found kissing in a stairwell that he had never looked Anthony in the eyes again, and, of course, his wife Eliza. As far as he was concerned, this feeling only ever lead to despair and sadness. But that did not stop his heart from beating a bit louder when the man finally finished with the last unconscious sailor and looked his way once more. The man (Aziraphale!) walked back over to Anthony, who was still sitting on the ground long after the sailors had risen, with the nuts untouched in his hand. 

“My dear, are the nuts not to your liking? I have some fruits and some deer back at my home if you wish.” Aziraphale frowned slightly in concern. Anthony was still staring.

“Oh no, they are wonderful! Just still feeling a bit queasy is all.” Anthony tried to laugh or smile and seem normal. Anthony did not feel like explaining that Eliza had made him roasted nuts for every holiday they’d had together as a treat. These ones would just taste like ash, like the ones he’d made for the Christmas after her passing had. Yet, he felt that they might be different. Just like Anthony sensed that something was different about this man. This man who did not feel hesitant to comfort and heal others. Who shared his hard-earned food without a second thought. Who did not flinch at the thought of touching his lips to another man’s. Aziraphale had extended a had for to help Anthony stand up. Anthony grasped it, marveling at the softness he found. How did a farmer have such few callouses? Aziraphale was talking again.

“I do have a remedy for nausea at my home if you wish to try it. It doesn’t work for everyone, but it doesn’t hurt to try.” Aziraphale turned slightly away from Anthony to speak to the small group of sailors that had gathered. “Welcome everyone! These are, of course, very unfortunate circumstance, but the town of Good Luck, New Jersey will be pleased to meet you all. If would just follow me, I will take you all to the town center where we can figure out how to be as hospitable as possible for you all.” Aziraphale’s smile blinded Anthony for a second before the strange man turned around and began walking along a small, almost hidden, path into the trees. Anthony did not hesitate to follow, trying to stay close enough to the man to observe, but not so close to seem obtrusive. Aziraphale was humming a somewhat familiar tune that Anthony could not quite name, but it calmed him as they wandered through the forest. 

Eventually, they made it to a small clearing, where they saw a cabin. Aziraphale yelled over his shoulder, “Hold on men, let me pop into my cabin for something.” The man huddled together outside of the humble home for a few minutes waiting for their guide. When he returned, he smiled at the group while discreetly passing something small wrapped in a cloth to Anthony. Inside was a piece of paper and a bit of some sort of root. It smelled both earthy and spiced. Anthony read the note.

“Dear Not-a-Sailor (Forgive me, I did not catch your name on the beach), Enclosed is a piece of ginger. Steep it in boiling water to make a tea when we arrive in town. It will help settle your stomach. -A” The final letter was extravagantly curled. It reminded Anthony of the signatures of Lords back in England. Anthony rewrapped the gifts and slipped them into his pocket. He could hear sounds of other people ahead, so they must be nearing the town. They had just reached the clearing in the trees when a small child appeared in front of Aziraphale. 

“Mr. Fell I missed you! We haven’t played ball in at least a week!” The child was thin but seemed to bound with energy. 

“I missed you too Timothy, but we have some important business to tend to. Can you go get the town council and round everyone up at the Chapel? We have visitors.” The boy glanced at the strange men and took off towards the buildings to perform his recently-assigned job. As the men walked through town, a few eyes followed them, but no whispers were heard or a single glare seen. They were just curious. As Timothy spread the word, people began to follow them. Soon enough, a taller building came into view. It held a cross above the front door. This must be the chapel. Anthony tried not to think about his latest thoughts about God when he entered. This was not the time nor place. The men filed in, Anthony taking up the rear. The whole group took up a quarter of the crowded pews. Some townsfolk were already gathered. A small group of 5 people sat behind the slightly raised pulpit. While Aziraphale’s presence had calmed him in the forest, Anthony couldn’t help but be reminded of his trials and the suffering he felt in church as a child. He shuddered. Not a second later, a hand laid over his fists that he didn’t even know he was clenching. Anthony looked to his right to find that Aziraphale had taken the seat next to him. 

“Don’t worry. This is a place of love and acceptance. This is just the biggest building we have. No one here is a minister or preacher of hellfire.” How Aziraphale seemed to guess his troubles, Anthony would never know. But he was nonetheless grateful for the man’s support. And the fact that Aziraphale did not move his hand, even as the oldest of the presumed town council rose to begin the meeting.


End file.
